


Catalyst

by carolion



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/pseuds/carolion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cook lets Archie love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalyst

Cook lay on his back, his arms resting beside his body with his palms facing upward. He blinked at the ceiling and took a deep breath, trying to get some oxygen to his brain, trying to fill his chest up, when it felt so hollow. It was cool with the fan on high, and he shivered, goosebumps forming on his arms as he felt his hair stand on end. It probably wasn't from the cold air though. It was probably from how Archie was ghosting his hands over Cook's body, tender and feather light, like if he pressed down, even a little, Cook would collapse into dust.

Normally Cook would be pushier, would insist on grabbing Archie around the waist and pinning the younger man to the mattress, attacking him with his lips and teeth and tongue. He liked the way it made him feel, drawing those sharp sweet sounds from Archie's lips, and he liked controlling the pace, slowing down or speeding up at his leisure, as Archie followed blindly and willingly. (And Cook was willing to admit he had a problem, a _kink_ for controlling David Archuleta, but when a gaze that pure and trusting is turned on you, it's so hard to not take advantage.)

Tonight, however, he had let Archie strip him down, and now he lay naked and open and silent as the boy touched him gently. His fingertips were warm, his thumbs looking for the grooves in Cook's body, the places it dipped and hollowed, the areas where muscle bunched beneath his skin. Archie gently, reverently, kissed Cook's tattoos, each one as heartfelt and devoted as a prayer, and Cook blinked back emotion as he thought _'This is worship.'_

He'd never been the kind of guy to get down on his knees and pray. God was an idea so far from him - not unreal, just so far away - that kneeling and clasping his hands seemed silly. And Archie, who spoke to God regularly, who blessed every meal asking for nutrition and health and strength, who went to church in a stuffy suit and downcast eyes, Archie was worshipping _him_.

Archie's mouth felt weirdly chaste as it kissed along his body, but when Cook glanced down to watch him, he looked anything but innocent. Cook felt his heart seize up, just a little bit, and his stomach swoop in a way that made him tense his thighs and shoulders as he stared. He couldn't help but feel guilty, in that moment, that he _did_ this to Archie, that he was here, beautiful and naked and _sexual_ , because of Cook. Because Cook had manhandled him on Idol, forcing him to take the touching, and the flirting, and the fondness (because Cook had no other way, he couldn't be someone he wasn't, and he knew when David flinched away from him it was real, and he forced the issue anyway) and because Cook had teased him on the tour, and because in Manila Cook had rolled on top of Archie on evening as they talked, and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.

He had to look away, closing his eyes and forcing his hands to uncurl, and for his body to relax. Archie's touch was a little more firm now, the strokes no longer as hesitant as before, but instead his smooth palm glided across Cook's body, mapping each inch of him. Cook sighed, and Archie made a soft, anxious sound.

It wasn't Archie fault. Archie was - Archie was perfect. It was Cook who was just a little messed up. He didn't mean to act so distant, but the events from the past year weighed heavily on his mind, and in his heart, and he felt so damaged, too broken to even move.

Archie's fingers curled around Cook's hip, and, without even speaking, Cook obediently rolled onto his stomach, laying his head on his folded arms and hitching his hips up, just a little. He was glad the fan was on, now. Archie's touch had ignited his body like it always did, and he was grateful for the cool breeze that eased his need. Still, his body flushed with anticipation, and he resisted burying his face in his arms, determined to stay still and be patient.

It wasn't long before Archie's fingers trailed timidly down the crack of his ass, his thumb pressing against his entrance, just holding it there and waiting. Cook shuddered a little - this was obscenely intimate, letting someone, letting anyone touch you there, letting them into your body in any shape or form. It only reminded him of how often Archie splayed his thighs for Cook, eagerly looping his arms around Cook's neck to drag him closer, so he could bear down on Cook's arousal and let him in, always, let him take.

They didn't do this very often. Cook bit his lip as Archie's mouth kissed his right cheek sweetly, and then the other, and he had to screw his eyes closed tight as a wet, warm tongue touched his skin and drew designs. His buttocks were being parted, and Archie's face was _right there_ , and his tongue was dragging along the crack of his ass, and Jesus that sounded crass, but it didn't _feel_ crass, it felt the opposite of crass. It was heart-wrenchingly _beautiful_. Archie took a deep breath and lapped at his entrance carefully, as if afraid he was going to do it wrong, or something ridiculous. Cook wanted to sob, but he just dug his nails into the skin of his palms and hung on.

Archie's hands helped ease the way for his tongue, his thumbs rubbing and pressing into him until he was a little looser, more relaxed, and then he was putting his mouth there and kissing, and licking, and thrusting in with his tongue, and it was so hot, and so fucking wet, and Cook tried not to squirm, tried not to shove back into that awesome soft, wet pressure, but he couldn't help it.

A low whimper escaped from him - shit, he hadn't meant to make a sound - but Archie was more enthusiastic now, not treating him so gently, his teeth getting involved, licking and sucking and nibbling, and he was making gentle, encouraging noises against Cook's ass, and everything went hot, hot, hot, smooth and slow and liquid, and then whiteness blazed across his vision and he was coming into the bedsheets, from only the ministrations of Archie's tongue in his ass.

Cook did sob them, tears shining on his cheeks, as he buried his face into the pillows and didn't try and stop the wave of emotion as it crashed over and through him, again and again.


End file.
